Page 81 of Wrath

He gets to his feet and holds onto the bannister, frowning again as he looks me over. There’s a beat where I can tell he wants to ask me where I’m going. Indecision on his face, and then he gives in: “You going out?”

“Just for a walk.” I shrug. “You know…”

“Cause you don’t wanna go with me?”

He looks pensive, even with those tired eyes. My heart pounds harder.

“You don’t want to go with me.” My voice is just a little higher than it should be, which makes my face burn.

He presses his lips together.

“Don’t pretend,” I say. “You don’t want to be my friend.”

He swallows, his eyes locked on mine. It takes everything I have not to stare at his lips as his tongue darts over them.

“You never have,” I allege. “All you want to do is fuck with me.” I shrug as my chest and throat and cheeks burn. “It’s all good. Just stay away.”

I’m so red that now my eyes are stinging, like the heat is rising up into them. I move down the stairs as fast as I can, going not out the front door, as logic would dictate, but back into the kitchen.

When I’m there, I realize I feel dizzy and get a glass of water. I’m gulping it down, telling myself not to be embarrassed that I’m weird around someone who’s done all this shit with me—tome—when the dining room door swings open and there he is again.

I haven’t looked at him closely today, but he’s got on a white hoodie, gray sweatpants, and some white socks. He has his hands in the hoodie’s front pocket. He pulls one out, holding a bag of Cheetos.

“I just…got you these,” he says, not looking at me. He sets two bags on the kitchen island, followed by two packs of gum and the Fun Dip. Then his gaze darts to mine. “In case you needed something,” he says hoarsely.

And he’s gone. He’s through the dining room door. Peaced out.

My brain trips.He bought this stuff for me?Does that mean the cherry Icee he was holding was for me, too?

I grab a pack of gum and follow him into the dining room, where I’m surprised to find him with his back pressed to the small swatch of wall to the right of the door.

He’s got his hands over his face, and his shoulders are heaving.

“Ezra? What’s the matter?”

He shakes his head.

“Nothing,” he says, but it’s muffled by his hands. He starts off toward the family room, moving with long strides.

He’s fast, but I swing my arm out, and my fingertips catch his hood.

He whirls toward me, looking stricken.

“Wait,” I say.

His eyes are so wide. He looks different than I’ve ever seen him…but also familiar. It hits me like a fucking space rock: This is how he looks when I wake him from nightmares. He looks freaked out. He looks…miserable.

What’s wrong?It’s on the tip of my tongue. But I can’t ask, because I’m positive that he won’t answer. I can’t handle any more rejection from him right now.

Instead I hear myself say, “You want to walk somewhere with me?”

He blinks, looking glassy-eyed, like I just snapped him out of a daydream. “Me?” He frowns. “I—”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know.” His chest rises as he inhales. “Where’re you going?”

“Nowhere special. Just down to the cemetery. There’s an overlook there. Like a bluff or whatnot. Just…it’s a place I can walk to.”

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